Thursday, July 16 - "I may be blind, but I can see you're fucked up..."

Nation...I think it's happening again. I am sick with fear and self-loathing. Everything seems to be just piling up on me, and I can't get out from under.

I had a crazy sugar fit last night after eating 1/3 of a take-out container of penne vodka w/shrimp. I think it may have been the white flour used for the penne. I hadn't even wanted to eat out; I had a beautiful baby greens salad at home with fruit and homemade cranberry-balsamic viniagrette. But the husband is "getting tired of that salad." The guy just consumes mass quantities of whatever is within reach: english muffins (can't even keep them in the house - they disappear) w/butter (breakfast), w/peanut butter & jelly (snack right after breakfast), no lunch, english muffin with cheese (snack right before I get home so he can tell me, "I'm starving, can we eat dinner early maybe?".

I swear it starts the moment I get in the door. I feel so bad for him in his current work situation (there is none), so he just sits on the couch all day and watches TV and eats english muffins, pretzels, chips, etc. He has no friends (only people he works with - when they work) and never talks to anyone all day; so he's full of conversation when I get home. All I want is quiet. The moment he opens his mouth to speak, I'm reaching for salty carbs.

Whatever he has to tell me always seems to do with something I have become responsible for: "did you mail the bills?", "did you call the doctor about the insurance benefits?", "did you fill out that form from the insurance company for the flood insurance?", "did you call the accountant and set up our appointment?", "did you call the doctor and change my appointment?" , "my credit card bill came today; why isn't the payment we made over the internet showing up?", "did you write the amounts you spent at the store in the checkbook? I know you forget all the time and I never know how much money is in there..." and on..and on...and on. I'm at the point where I sort of don't want to go in the house when I get home.

This is really a fucked up situation as well, because now - even though there is no work - if there was work, he wouldn't be able to get assigned. On May 11, all of a sudden a cataract has completely taken the vision in his "good" eye; he had a trauma to the "bad" eye about 20 years ago and hasn't really seen well from it since; nothing can be done. So he continued working with the cataract developing though the end of the last union assignment (Memorial Day). Since then he's been working at our home putting in new bluestone walk and stepping stones from the driveway. He compensates a lot for the loss of vision, but also just from experience does a lot of work by touch.

I haven't been completely neglegent; did get him seen by an opthalmologist, who found him to be borderline glaucoma, so put him on some drops and really got the pressure down. (This is about the time the cataract came on full throttle). She sent him for an MRI (w/regard to the 'pale'optic nerve in the bad trauma eye), which came back with no masses. This led to possibly being a candidate for cataract surgery and picking a surgeon. Coincidentally there is a surgeon in the opthalmologist's office. Great caring doctor, didn't look at us like we were idiots, explained cataracts in simply worded sentences (because we are idiots) discussed the procedure and the special lens she would place in the husband's cataract eye. Everything seemed too good to be true...

She's not in network. He turns to me in and says, "I thought you checked all this already." I was (and still am) devastated. Not so much as she's not in network, but because of his comment. What I heard was, "why did you have me waste my time waiting for and going to these appointments and all the time the doctor is not in network and you could have kept all this from happening if you had just made some phone calls or looked on the internet and gotten some real information..." etc.

I looked through the websites of so many doctors, checked names against my plan. I think I may have assumed the surgeon was in-network because the office she works at "IS" in network, as is the primary opthalmologist also in-network. But as it turns out, even if my benefits would pay for an out-of-network doctor, it would only be at a 50-70%, so we'd still have balance bill. The surgeon's office manager has agreed to charge us the same fee as they charge medicare ($1000) instead of her usual $2500. The special lens costs an additional $850, as it is made to correct astigmatism (so the husband's eyeglass prescription will change dramatically). The surgical center gets an additional $300 (just to have the lens available to you - bastards). This wouuld all be additional cash out even if the doctor was in network; insurance carrier only pays for the straight, plain, no-help-with-your-vision-problems lens.

...but I digress. I was talking about me and my utter black despair. So all I could think must of yesterday (and all of last night) was what a piece of shit I am. All I am is a liability to the family when we have no money to spare. On top of this, I have traded in my Yoga certification tickets from last years conference (that I missed due to a self-esteem crisis) to one happening July 23-26. So again, here I am with no confidence to go (keep thinking 'what the fuck am I thinking? I barely have a home practice') as well as no-money (no fucking bonus this year thanks to my boss and her issues with me that I can't prove innocence of).

I just feel so overwhelmed; we are going to the family compound tomorrow (the husbands brother and wife are coming from Atlanta; haven't seen them since 2004) and coming back Monday. I was really looking forward to going, but now just feel so worthless - I have nothing to offer anyone. Just useless, horribly obese, ugly skin hanging off me, I just want to vomit constantly. I definitely do not want to see anyone.

On July 14th, the husband has made it 19 years without picking up a drink. He has started going to meetings again (not often enough IMHO), but he's going. I was psyching myself up to go to the gym last night, just for 45 minutes, and ending up eating 1/2 package of LU Le Fondant wafers from France and 2 tiny-snack-size HaagenDaaz Coffee and almond bars. On top of the fucking white flour pasta, I felt like there were ants crawling under my skin. I started doing the dishes (because the cabinets were empty and sink was overflowing) to try and be positive, and everything that has been pushed down in my emotional steamer trunk just came out, like it was recovered from the remains of the Titanic. I literally could not stop crying.

So the husband comes home, just as I was finishing the dishes (and the crying). "Why are you crying? What's the matter?" I told him, "I don't know. Everything and nothing..." I forget what else we said next, but I brought up the fact that I have nothing to offer, and it's my fault about the choice of surgeon. "Because of me, we have to pay money we don't have.." He said, "Because of you, I'm getting treatment from the best doctor I could hope to find."

Today is also the pre-op physical for the husband; I'll be driving him.

I just wish the hurting would stop.